When His Dreams Take Flight Read online

  When His Dreams Take Flight

  Written by Andy Holloman

  Copyright 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any

  form without written permission from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction and any similarities are coincidental and unintentional.

  ISBN: 978-0-615-90043-8

  Cover Design: Allison O’Neill

  Editor: Toni Rakestraw

  Triple J Press

  Contact the author at: www.AndyHolloman.com

  When His Dreams Take Flight

  Quick Overview-

  Genre - Thriller/Suspense

  Rated “R” for language, mild sexual content.

  Length - 54,000 words.

  Nick Townsend is a high school principal battling alcohol addiction. After falling off the wagon, he awakens the next morning remembering a dream that included him flying over an elementary school shooting, in progress. The next day, the school shooting he saw in his dream is headline news. When it happens again, he is determined to prevent the tragedy and solicits his best friend to help him save more children from certain death.

  But what is the cost of saving lives? Will he continue to risk his life when the woman he loves is carrying his child? Can he win the battle against the demon tequila that threatens to wreck his world? And, when he awakens one morning remembering another school shooting dream, can he stop the horrible event from happening at his school?

  Comments from Reviewers -

  "A page-turner to keep you from your own dreams." - Douglas Dorow, Amazon Bestselling Author

  “Andy Holloman has once more reached into his richly articulate imagination to pen another story of suspense and human frailty. In Mr. Holloman's latest literary offering, When His Dreams Take Flight, he brings into sharp focus the agony of repeated failure by his central character, Nick Townsend. Nick must overcome his destructive dependence on alcohol, which threatens every aspect of his life, and oddly, becomes the only salvation for many others. Holloman's uncanny talent for mining deep into the painful dark corners of the human condition hits home hard and relentlessly in this tale of love, hate, irony, and redemption. - Carolynn Woods, Author of The Aardvark's Wife.

  "Andy Holloman's When His Dreams Take Flight is a taut thriller about an underdog hero with an unusual paranormal gift/curse that takes him, and the reader, on an unusual journey of suspense, murder and redemption. Well worth the trip." - David Lender, Bestselling Author

  “Holloman's second novel is an imaginative flight of adventure, gripping suspense and genuine heart.”

  - Mary Moore, Author of Sleeping with Patty Hearst

  “Readers, buckle up! Holloman delivers heart-pounding intensity and stomach-dropping twists.”

  - Bestselling Author Tamara Ward

  "Chilling. A glimpse into every man's nightmare." - Bestselling Author Martha Bourke

  Also by Andy Holloman

  Shades of Gray (published 2011)

  Quick Overview -

  Genre - Thriller/Suspense, Rated “R” for language. No sexual content

  Approximately 75,000 words

  Hundreds of reviews on Amazon and Goodreads.

  In the Fall of 2001, John Manning's life is in turmoil. His six-year-old daughter Lucy needs a kidney transplant, and his travel agency is in financial distress because of the 9/11 tragedy. A lapse in his health insurance means he also has to quickly secure funds for his daughter's operation.

  Wanda, a client of John's travel agency, is facing similar financial difficulties. Her livelihood as a drug dealer has also been hit hard by increased airport security. As a single parent, she wants to leave her dangerous profession and break free from her drug-lord boss Jamel, but a lack of funds has curtailed attempts to start a new life with her daughter.

  Desperate times lead to desperate measures and John and Wanda form a partnership to smuggle cocaine via cruise ships.

  How far should a father go to save his child? Can a man and woman from completely different worlds help each other? Could they fall in love? And who will live to see the summer of 2002?

  ** #1 BestSeller, Amazon, American Drama

  ** Finalist, Reader's Choice, Fiction-Suspense

  ** Semi-Finalist, Kindle Book Review, Thriller/Mystery

  ** #1 BestSeller, Amazon, Men's Adventure

  Comments from Reviewers -

  "Wow! Holloman delivers on a taut thriller that will keep you turning the pages far into the night. This book should be at the top of everyone's reading list for 2012"

  - S. Burnham, PeakCityPublishing.com

  “Holloman is the next sensation in great novel writing. This debut is blockbuster authorship. He knows how to create exciting characters that readers can root for and he is brilliant in setting up scenes. His storytelling is fresh and exciting." - Glen Cantrell, Author

  "Debut novelist Andy Holloman speeds us on a journey with punch, twist, and emotional dilemmas straight from our worst fears. Shades of Gray is a colorful, rollicking ride from start to finish."

  - Franz Wisner, New York Times bestselling author of Honeymoon with My Brother and How the World Makes Love

  Dedication

  To my children. Words cannot describe how lucky and blessed I am to be your father. You delight, amaze, and entertain. I am so proud.

  Thank you MM, MB, HH and CM for the time and energy you gave in providing feedback on this novel. The story shines brighter thanks to your intelligent insights.

  Hats off to my very talented editor, Toni Rakestraw. Simply the best.

  I – June 5, 2013

  Before Nick opened his eyes, before the morning light struck the back of his retinas, pain throbbed through his frontal lobe and settled in his temples. He massaged them then opened his right eye. The bright sun burned and he rolled onto his side to avoid the light. With his eyes closed, he pushed himself towards the edge of his bed and sat up. The room spun and bile rose in his throat. He lowered his head between his knees and spat on the floor. He stood up and put his hand on the wall for support. He swayed towards the wall, spilling a cup; the contents sprayed across his foot and the carpet underneath his bed.

  He walked out of the room and down the hall, bracing himself with the wall until he reached the bathroom. He splashed cold water in his face and ran his wet fingers through his hair. More bile bubbled up in his throat, so he cupped his hand under the cool stream, bent down, and drank. When he came back up and looked in the mirror, his dream from the night before rushed back into his consciousness. This time it would be his school. His students, his staff.

  Allison!

  He hurried back to his room and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. Eight-thirty. Halfway through first period. He punched Allison’s speed dial number on his phone. Voicemail. “Allison. You gotta get out of the building. Don’t stop to talk to anyone, don’t drop by the office. Just walk out the exit door beside your classroom. Stay away from the front of the building! The dream happened again, but this time at our school. You’ve got to get yourself and the baby out. Right now!”

  As the principal, he had banned his teachers from having their own phones on during class time. God, if only her phone was sitting on her desk, vibrating, lighting up, getting her attention.

  He pulled on a pair of khakis and a white t-shirt. Goddamn you, Gene! Just when I need you the most, you up and leave me. He moved out of his bedroom and towards the door, pulling a baseball hat off a hanger. The school was a ten minute jog from his apartment. He stepped out the door, slamming it behind him, and started down the stairs. Halfway down he paused and brought his hand to his mouth. He bent over the railing and vomited. He spat out the remains and dialed th
e school’s number.

  “James Thomas High School, how may I—”

  “Jenny, its Nick. I’m coming right now. I’m running out the door, but I need you to do something. This is very important. Okay?”

  “Sure, Principal Nick. What is it?”

  “Promise me that you’ll stay calm and that you will move fast when I say to.”

  “Sure, Nick, but you’re kinda scaring me.”

  “Our school is going to be attacked. There’s gonna be a shooter and—”

  “A shooter? Are you kidding?”

  “This is no joke. It’s the Laskins. They’re coming and it’s going to be bad, so I need you to pull the fire alarm in my office. Move right now and get in there. Break the glass and then pull down the switch.”

  “You mean Timmie Laskin is going to shoot people? What the heck are you talking about? How do you know what—”

  “Please just do what I say. It’s not Timmie, it’s—”

  “Stick?”

  “Yes.” He stopped, pulled the phone away from his head and vomited again.

  “Oh my god! He’s coming through the front door right now. He looks terrible and dirty. But how did you know Stick was going to be here?” said Jenny.

  “Never mind. Go in my office, lock the door, and then pull the fire switch. Do it now!”

  “He’s coming towards the office! He’s got a gun. Mr. Laskin, what are you doing? Please put that gun away. I—I have to; you have to, Mr. Laskin! No! Please no!” The line went dead.

  “Jenny? Jenny? Are you there?” He looked down at his phone’s screen.

  Call ended.

  II - About Six Months Earlier

  The walkie-talkie crackled in his pocket.

  “Nick, its Susan. The Laskin kid is in another fight. Need you at the front of the school.” Nick turned and walked quickly towards the main doors. He lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth and keyed the mike.

  “Copy, Susan. I’ll be right there. Don’t get in the middle of anything, okay?”

  “Hurry. He’s got some ninth grader down on the ground.”

  Nick reached the crowd surrounding the fight a minute later and pushed through. He grabbed Timmie and pulled him back with ease. The boy on the ground was crying. Blood flowed from his lip and nose.

  “He started this, Principal Nick!” The boy on the ground pointed at the other. “He grabbed my lunchbox.”

  “That’s a bunch of crap. The kid’s lying and—“

  Nick leaned in close to the boy he still held in his grip. “Shut up, Timmie.” Nick stood up and looked around at the crowd of a dozen students that had encircled them. “Okay, okay. We’re all done here, everyone back to class.” The crowd slowly turned back towards the school.

  Nick turned to Timmie, “This is the second time this year I’ve pulled you off someone who claims you started a fight.” He pointed towards the front entrance. “Get in my office, now!” Timmie jerked his arm out of Nick’s grip, glaring back at him as he walked towards the office. Nick kneeled down and helped the other boy stand up. “David, I’m really sorry. Susan, do you have any Kleenex?” She nodded and handed him a small package. “So, he tried to take your lunch, right?”

  David dabbed his lip with a Kleenex and nodded. “Same thing he did to Donnie before Thanksgiving.”

  “I’m sorry, David. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Nick stood up and walked back to the school.

  When he got inside, Timmie was standing at the entrance to Nick’s private office, yelling at Jenny, the school secretary. “I told Principal Nick I didn’t do anything! I’m not staying here!”

  “Yes, you are,” said Nick. “Get your butt in my office right now.” Two other teachers walked in, attendance reports in hand.

  “I’m leaving,” said Timmie, walking towards the door. Nick’s face reddened and he grabbed his arm.

  “You stop right there,” said Nick, jerking him back. Timmie’s face flushed and he tried to pull his arm free, but Nick held fast. He turned his head and spat in Nick’s face. Nick released his grip and wiped the spit off his nose and mouth. Nick drew his fist back and thrust it forward, catching Timmie squarely on the mouth. He fell back into a bookcase. Glass and books sprayed down onto the floor.

  “Damn,” said Timmie, looking up from the floor, “what the hell was that?

  “Nick! What did you do?” yelled Jenny. One of the teachers rushed to Timmie and helped him stand up. Jenny took Nick by the arm and led him into his office.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Nick,” she said as she shut the door behind her. He kicked the chair beside his desk and it slammed into the wall.

  “Damn it. Why did I do that?” He wiped his face again. “That was bad.”

  “It was, Nick,” she said softly. “Even though the kid just spat in your face, you can’t lose it and punch him.” She looked through the window and watched Timmie leave the office.

  Nick shook his head, “There’s going to be trouble over this.”

  ***

  Dec. 19, 2012, 10:30 a.m. – Sent Via Facsimile –

  Nicholas Townsend, Principal

  James Thomas High School

  Re: Incident Report #326

  Dear Principal Townsend:

  As is the policy of the Mt. Rutgers City School Board, we have opened an investigation into an incident that has been reported to us. The Board received information that you struck a male student in your office on the morning of Dec. 17, 2012. Additional witnesses on the school staff have corroborated the account which was reported to the Board.

  The School Board takes matters of this type very seriously. As you are aware, it is imperative that we investigate this matter thoroughly to determine what measures, if any, the Board would need to impose on those involved. The Board will convene a special session on or before Dec. 31, 2012 to do so.

  It is our decision that you should take paid leave beginning at the end of the school day today and that you should remain on paid leave until the Board can convene its special session.

  Thank you in advance for complying with this request and for not entering the school grounds of James Thomas High School after today. The Board will notify you of any additional actions it takes in regards to this matter. We thank you for your service to the Mt. Rutgers community.

  Sincerely,

  Dr. Samuel Ellison, President

  Mt. Rutgers City School Board

  III - Three Days Later

  He’s jogging on an empty street. He extends his arms and his body rises. Three quick flaps of his arms and he is fifty feet above the road. He is flying, his favorite type of dream. He’s not in Mt. Rutgers. It appears to be somewhere warmer, palm trees below his feet. He flaps again, rising another ten feet. The sky is perfect, with small clouds floating above him, the sun warming his face and body. He flies over homes like the one he grew up in, red brick ranches built in the sixties and seventies, working class. He sees cars up on cinderblocks in driveways, dogs barking from behind rusted fences. Women are pushing strollers along the streets, waving to others on front doorsteps. He rises higher and twists his arms to change direction, flying towards a school building four blocks away. As he gets closer, the roof of the school appears to be gone, or is he just seeing through it? He watches children moving between classes. The cafeteria is full. He slows and banks to the left, towards the front. He sees the sign at the front of the school. Batistica Elementary.

  No one notices him as he hovers above, but he sees them. Teachers pointing at whiteboards, smiling children, hands in the air, eager to answer. The school's office buzzing, phones ringing. Underneath him, a man wearing camouflage clothing and carrying a black duffel bag is jogging towards the front door. He sees a gun holstered on the man’s belt. “Hey you! What are you doing?” His voice is a whisper. He tries to lower himself, but the air now feels like syrup, he can barely move. “Stop!” No reaction.

  He watches as the man enters a restroom inside the school, drops his bag, and pull
s the zipper down to open it. The man covers his head with a stocking and removes two automatic weapons from the bag, slinging them over his shoulder. A person walks into the bathroom, maybe a teacher. The man shoots the teacher without hesitation. Nick pumps his arms, trying to get down. He lands on the school steps, shouting, but no one notices. He can see the office staff, frozen after hearing the shots, not certain what to do next.

  His legs are pumping, trying to propel him towards the school door, but he feels as if he’s running on ice. Then pop-pop-pop-pop, like firecrackers, but he knows otherwise. He flaps his arms again, trying to get to the shooter. He screams.

  "Mr. Nick. Mr. Nick, wake up. Wake up, Mr. Nick."

  "Huh? Eduardo? Am I at school?”

  "Mr. Nick, I think you have been drinking again. I can smell it strong on you."

  "Damn, what time is it?"

  "It is early, Mr. Nick. But you know that you can't be coming to the school anymore. No one can see you here." He sat up on the couch. His pants were wet.

  "You smell like piss and tequila, just like my papa when I was a kid.”

  "Eduardo, what time is it, really?" Nick massaged his temples and ran both of his hands through his hair."

  "It is only seven o'clock. But today is teacher workday, so no kids.” Eduardo stood up and grabbed a chair. Turning it backwards, he sat down and crossed his arms on the chair back. "The teachers don’t come in so early on workdays. So there’s nobody here but you and me.”